


Hallowed Be Thy Name

by nimiumcaelo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bible Quotes, Christian Character, Christianity, Gen or Pre-Slash, I miss going to church, Religion, Religious Content, Set somewhere in season 5, author is christian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25293277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimiumcaelo/pseuds/nimiumcaelo
Summary: Castiel was not his religion. Sam did not worship angels.No, he worshipedwithan angel and that was so much better.“And as Peter was coming in, Cornelius met him, and fell down at his feet, and worshipped him. But Peter took him up, saying, ‘Stand up; I myself also am a man.’” Acts 10:25-26 (KJV)
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	Hallowed Be Thy Name

Sam craved constancy. He craved order.   
Dean and his dad had loved jumping from town to town, never putting their feet in the dirt long enough to leave an imprint. Still, Dean found it hard to spend even a week in one motel without getting antsy. He would bite at his fingernails, hunched over on the edge of the bed, and complain about the state of their investigation until Sam broke down and told him they were going out to a bar, a restaurant, or some other distraction for the evening. Even with Lisa, Sam had gotten the idea that Dean would rather take her and Ben with him around the country than leave his nomadic lifestyle behind for them.  
Sam was different, though. He was a details person. It helped him excel in pre-Law, and it made him appreciate the day-to-day of a town that you just couldn’t experience unless you planted some kind of roots there. In all honesty, he kind of hated the way they lived: never staying, never letting people remember them, never leaving anything behind besides memories constructed of carefully fabricated lies. It was disheartening. Instead of the freedom it granted Dean, it gave Sam the nagging thought that nothing he did mattered.   
He was grateful he had Dean. His brother had been one of the only consistent things in his life. No matter where he was, Dean and his smushed toothbrush would be there, too.  
The only other constant he’d found so far was religion. It sometimes felt a little silly to still believe after everything that had happened so far, especially with God being so hard to find, but some deep, inner part of him couldn’t accept that everything he’d learned in that little black book he’d stolen from a motel at thirteen was a lie.  
Dean didn’t really understand. He’d never had faith the way that Sam had. Frankly, he’d never believed in much of anything, really. Whenever Sam asked if they could stay just one more day in town (“Because I haven’t been to church in nearly four months, Dean. It’s just one morning. We’ll be on the road right after.”), Dean scoffed and told him there were easier ways to get free booze at nine in the morning.

  
Then, Castiel entered stage left. 

  
Rather than contradicting everything Sam believed, the angel exponentially affirmed it. It was as if Sam had a view of the world that was done by a child in shaky pencil lines and Castiel had come and presented him with the clearest photograph he could find. He had so many questions about life, physics, logic, prophecy that he’d only hoped to have answered when a little angel came to sit on his bed after he’d taken his dying breath. Only now, his little angel had come early.  
It was terrifying and it was beautiful and it made him want to cover his face and cry.

“You are a believer?” Castiel had asked, the first time he witnessed Sam arguing with Dean over attending a church service. “I had thought that unlikely given your brother’s antagonism towards the Way.”  
Sam smiled. “Once you know the truth, it’s hard to shake off.”  
Castiel nodded, his eyes lowered. Something about his expression unlocked something small inside Sam’s chest.  
“Do you want to come with me?”  
“You would not mind the intrusion?”  
“No, no of course not, Cas. I’ve wanted someone to come with me for years, if I’m being honest.”  
Castiel smiled, then, and Sam felt truly, deeply seen.  
“I would greatly enjoy that, Sam. Thank you.”

The church wasn’t nearly full. They sat near the back, several pews behind the last regular parishioners, but not far enough towards the back that they seemed they wanted to leave. Castiel sat close and Sam appreciated the gentle pressure of their shoulders touching together. Something about sitting in a church sanctuary with a friend spoke to Sam’s inner being. He had nothing to hide, either to God or to Castiel. He was fully known here, and fully loved. The organ struck its first chord and Sam felt an invisible tension exhale from him.

  
_I’m so glad I learned to trust him,_   
_Precious Jesus, savior, friend,_   
_And I know that he is with me,_   
_Will be with me to the end._

_Jesus, Jesus, how I trust him,_   
_How I’ve proved him o’er and o’er,_   
_Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus,_   
_Oh, for grace to trust him more._

The handful of choir members lifted their voices in praise. Sam’s gaze found its way to the large wooden cross affixed to the wall behind the preacher. His heart lifted up a wordless prayer. Thoughts of gratitude, awe, and submission flowed out of him.  
He felt Castiel sigh and looked to find the angel smiling at the cross.

When the service finished, the two walked back to the motel where Dean was waiting (impatiently) for them.  
“It never ceases to fill my heart with joy to hear humanity offer its praises to the Lord.” Castiel’s gruff tones were infused with warmth and wonder. “Thank you, Sam.”  
The two were still close. The backs of their hands brushed occasionally as they walked. Castiel’s skin felt warm, almost charged, like a cat rolling on a wool sweater.  
“You’re welcome, Cas.”

Sam slept quickly and easily that night. 

Castiel was not his religion. Sam did not worship angels.  
No, he worshiped with an angel and that was so much better.

 _“And as Peter was coming in, Cornelius met him, and fell down at his feet, and worshipped him. But Peter took him up, saying, ‘Stand up; I myself also am a man.’”_ Acts 10:25-26 (KJV)

**Author's Note:**

> imma be 100% real w y'all. this fic was entirely born out of how much i miss going to church. it's been months!!! :(  
> this was also born out of the fact that i hate it when writers say that one character "worshiped" another character because i feel like they don't really understand what true worship is like. anywayz.
> 
> \- M


End file.
